That's What Friends Are For
by Sevandor1
Summary: When his first major battle with Metro Man goes terribly wrong, Minion helps the 17 year old Megamind escape to safety.  A one-shot.


_Author's Note: This is a one-shot about an incident referred to in the first chapter of Getting Away From It All, where Minion helps get a young (17) Megamind to safety after his first major battle with Metro Man goes wrong. Written entirely from Minion's point of view (though not in the first person), I started it at the beginning of the LiveJournal community's Angst Week theme but didn't finish it until this morning (when the community's current weekly theme is "Minion Love" - which I've already covered with my story "Summer Love"). It's kinda rough, especially around the end (so someday, I may go back and redo it), but it's sort of a study of Minion's attitude about this incident and why he didn't try to stop Megamind from becoming a supervillain (at least within the context of my fanverse). Just a little side project while I continue working on the next chapter of Legacy (which will be coming soon, never fear!). In the meantime, enjoy!  
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><p>That's What Friends Are For<p>

It was a dark and stormy night. The former was not at all surprising, since it _was _night, but the storms were going on and on, the thunder and lightning seeming not to want to end, diminishing for a time only to come back again, nature's rage against itself. Minion hated this time of year, late spring, when a wind off the lake could make it cold enough to bring in thoughts of a late May snow, and when a shift of the winds to the south could bring in warm, moist air masses from the Gulf of Mexico to clash with the chilly winds and create storms that could go on all day or all night long. Inside the prison, the only way to tell that there were storms was when the rumble of thunder made its way through the thick walls, but here on the outside, in the anthropomorphic robot body his ward had cobbled together for him from bits and pieces of things they'd scavenged throughout Metro City, the alien fish felt strangely naked and unprotected.

It was worse tonight because they were nowhere near any of the places that gave them a feeling of home or security. He and Mykaal — who now went by the name of Megamind, guarding the secret of his true name from the world that so far had treated him like something one scrapes from the sole of their shoe in disgust — had escaped from the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted over six months ago, and had made a temporary home of sorts in one of the many long-abandoned factories in the old industrial district, a relic from those years when the city had thrived on heavy industry before the bad economy of the rust belt years had brought about the collapse of many local businesses. Neither of them really liked the place; it had been a packing house, and to Megamind's inhumanly sensitive nose, it still carried the odors of its past, while to Minion's active imagination, it had phantoms of that grisly industry lurking in every shadow.

But it had served a purpose as a temporary home from which they worked to set up the blue teenager's first major confrontation with the bane of his existence: Wayne Scott, who had styled himself as the city's superhero defender less than a year ago, going by what Megamind considered the premature monicker of Metro Man. Neither of them would be legally an adult until late in the year, when they finally reached eighteen, and his ward felt it was presumptuous of the big oaf to go around proclaiming himself a man when he was still a boy. A big, strong, brawny, superpowered boy, but legally a boy nonetheless.

Perhaps that was what had egged him on into launching today's battle, their first on such a huge scale, this arrogance of the Scott boy's — but right at the moment, Minion was heartily wishing that his young ward had found a way to contain his temper and wait until _all_ their nefarious devices had been thoroughly tested. He wished that the battle had never happened, and most of all, he wished that they were still back in their hideout, making plans for a more permanent sanctuary somewhere in the city.

But they weren't. They were out in the middle of a god-awful thunderstorm in the dark of night, driving north in a stolen car after all of Megamind's incomplete plans and untested inventions had failed. Minion had just barely been able to spirit his friend away from the awful fight that had followed, using some leftover but powerful explosives to cause a diversion in a nearby skyscraper that was slated for demolition. He had stolen the car to facilitate their getaway, and now, after hours of slow, cautious driving in the deepening dark and the worsening storms, he even began to wish they were back at the prison, safe and sound.

Because right now, they were anything but. Minion wasn't the best driver in the world, having had only a little experience on the open road in this mechanical body. And at the moment, Mykaal — at times like this, the piscine had difficulty thinking of his ward by any name but that which his parents had given him, a name untainted by the horrors and unfairness of this unhappy world — was stretched out on the back seat, bundled in "borrowed" blankets and quite unconscious, having just been manhandled by the inexperienced superhero to within a fraction of an inch of his life.

Minion was _so _glad that he'd taken the time to study things like first aid and basic emergency medical procedures! After a dreadful accident in one of their earliest hideouts, he'd become determined to make himself capable of taking care of as many of his friend's hurts as possible, to spare him the need to return to the prison for care, the only place where he could be assured that no one would try to use him for self-serving experiments and research. Using makeshift bandages and splits, he'd been able to stop the bleeding and immobilize the parts of his ward that he feared might have broken bones or serious dislocations and sprains.

Minion grimaced as he pressed on through the stormy darkness. He didn't know why that so-called superhero had been so careless with his much smaller and not invulnerable opponent. Surely Scott must have been aware of how much damage he'd been causing to his foe when the fight had turned physical on a one-on-one basis.

Then again, maybe not. Scott had always had a completely irrational dislike for Mykaal, even when they were children, and with it had come a disregard for the smaller alien's well-being. The multiple instances of "dodgeball" that Wayne had instigated back in school — which had been much more violent than necessary, and always with poor little Blue as the target — had been proof enough of the boy's disdain. The torture had ended only when Mykaal had been punished for having the audacity to try to protect himself. No, even if he'd learned to treat other humans and even animals with kindness, there was no room in Wayne's heart with its warped notion of justice for any kindness toward the small blue alien. Why bother to pull your punches with someone you'd always hated without reason?

Minion didn't really care if it was hatred or just inexperience or even the downside of super-speed, moving so fast that he'd caused major damage to his opponent even before he'd been aware of it. All that mattered to the worried ichthyoid was that his friend and ward had been badly hurt, and it was his duty to get him to safety and do whatever he could to nurse him back to health.

Afraid of being caught by the police — or worse, by Metro Man — if he took any of the major roads, Minion had wound his way north on as many back roads as he could find. It hadn't been easy, since the lakeshore both to the north and south of Metro City was lined with many large parks and nature preserves. There were few roads that didn't dead-end at some lake or woodland, and almost all that didn't were wide open and the traffic on them easily spotted. Consulting a map he'd found in the stolen car — as nondescript a vehicle as he could lay his robot hands on — Minion had managed to find a circuitous route that wound its way through the myriad parks and along twisted streams and rivers. He'd had to backtrack only twice because of unexpected dead-ends, but he'd managed to make progress without being spotted or caught by any of the authorities.

That, he hoped, was more than mere luck. When Wayne had flown off to "save the day" at the site of the skyscraper explosion, the piscine had used that opportunity not only to get his ward safely away, but to make it look as if he might have been killed in the horrible wreckage of his own devices. Mykaal wouldn't be happy with him for deliberately arranging such a humiliation, but once his initial upset had a chance to cool off, he'd understand that in a choice between his life and his pride, Minion had made the right decision. If that Scott bully thought he'd killed his foe, he wouldn't be looking for him away from the city, and maybe he'd learn to feel a little remorse for how terribly he'd abused his very vulnerable fellow alien.

After almost three hours of driving along the convoluted back roads of western Michigan — stopping briefly from time to time to make sure his ward was still alive and as comfortable as he could be while unconscious and awkwardly strapped onto the backseat of the cramped little car — Minion finally reached a point where he had to make an even less pleasant choice: to find a place in the woods to hole up, or to risk moving onto one of the more major roads in hopes of finding a place better suited to caring for his ward in a town or city. The former was more likely to offer total privacy, the latter much better access to the supplies they would both need to live. It quickly became clear that simply roughing it in the open was not an option, and when Minion reached the crossroads where he would need to choose between the two alternatives, he took a long moment to think it over.

In the flashes of lightning, brighter than the few streetlights in this rural location, he saw a sign, indicating that Ludington was ten miles to the north on the secondary highway before him. He knew that it wasn't a huge city, but it was a city nonetheless. Ten miles would probably get him into its center, but with luck, he might find a suitable place to hide before then. A glance at the dashboard clock showed that it was getting close to midnight, and the traffic on the highway was very light, especially with the heavy rain. A soft sound from the backseat told him that though Mykaal was still unconscious, it wouldn't be too much longer before he wakened, and he didn't want that to be while they were still jouncing along the road, looking for shelter. He made his decision, and turned left onto the highway, heading into town.

Ludington wasn't a big city by any means, having only a bit over eight thousand permanent residents, and being outside the tourist season, it was very quiet at this time of night. Minion was glad for both that and the heavy rain, since they diminished the likelihood of anyone spotting him as he drove slowly down the back streets, searching for a place to take shelter.

Luck finally took him down what turned out to be a dead-end street in a non-residential area, but at its end was an old, empty building that faded signs claimed had once been some sort of furniture shop. It was obvious that no one was interested in the property. The strips that had once held grass and shrubbery were untended, wild and overgrown with the dried weeds from last fall, just beginning to show signs of new spring growth and leaves. The signs declaring it to be for sale were also worn and faded, and though the place had its share of graffiti and typical teenage vandalism, that, too, was old. It meant that anything of value had probably been stripped out long ago, and that it wasn't deemed suitable as a hangout for gangs or even teens looking for party or make-out locations, much less a desirable site to open a new business.

He and Mykaal had made do with far less, and aside from its age and lack of valuables, it had one feature that to Minion was a goldmine: a connected enclosed garage that was easily opened, and easily secured once he'd driven the car inside. That saved him from the need to either leave it on the streets or try to hide it from anyone who might spot it, identify it as stolen, and connect it to their escape from Metro City.

Once inside and away from prying eyes, the ichthyoid checked on his ward before checking out the building's interior. Mykaal was still out, merely asleep now, from what Minion could tell, but not a comfortable sleep. He wanted to do everything possible to make sure that the blue teenager awoke to better surroundings than this, at least to ones in which he could feel safe and secure, not in fear of being pursued and manhandled. Minion scowled as he once again remembered Scott's mistreatment of him, nothing short of brutality, in the fish's opinion. Well, he would make sure that there was nothing to make Mykaal fear being captured by that lout when he finally wakened.

The shop, the fish soon discovered, was indeed old and dusty and long abandoned, but not without some useful items. Having been used for the manufacture and assembly of furniture, there were bits and pieces of things that had been left behind as not worth moving or unsaleable. The largest was an old, very worn and dusty industrial sewing machine, a heavy and awkward thing used in upholstery work; under a thick layer of gritty dust, it was doubtful if the hulking contraption was capable of functioning. There were a number of beat-up wooden chairs, several heavily scarred or damaged tables, parts of half a dozen sofas that had seen better days, an assortment of very worn and damaged cushions, and an almost complete bed frame. With the strength of his robot body, a few tools found in a dusty storage closet, and a little ingenuity, Minion was able to put together a makeshift bed, using the cushions and parts of the sofas as a mattress, binding them together with wide strips of upholstery fabric gleaned from the partial rolls and scraps that had also been found in a storeroom.

There were no kitchen facilities, but there was a bathroom, and one spigot that against all odds was still capable of providing water. Food would be an issue very soon, but along the way here, he'd noted the locations of a nearby restaurant, a corner bar, and a neighborhood all-night convenience store. He didn't care much for outright stealing — he much preferred scavenging — but to protect and save his ward, he would do whatever was needed. Before going into places to shoplift, he'd check things like dumpsters and loading docks first, since he didn't have a disguise available and didn't want to draw attention to their presence here. Maybe when Mykaal was a little better, he could find a wash line to raid and come up with the right sort of loose clothing to cover his mechanical body and domed head enough to not draw attention to himself, at least in the dark of night. One way or another, he'd manage. Thank God it was heading toward summer, not winter.

He heard soft, unhappy sounds coming from the back of the car and knew that Mykaal would be coming around soon. The blue teenager's people were tough and very resilient, but this was nothing he'd bounce back from quickly, and when he woke, he was going to be in considerable pain. Minion wanted to minimize that if he could, so he quickly went to investigate the contents of the car's trunk, looking for anything that could possibly be useful, especially medical supplies, like painkillers. Getting out of town and away from the Scott thug and the other authorities had been Minion's main concern when they'd fled Metro City, so he'd just grabbed the first unremarkable car that he could start up easily with a decent amount of fuel in its tank and room to put an injured young man. During the drive, he'd found spare keys in the glovebox, and they fortunately both started the car and opened its locks.

When the trunk popped open, the fish felt an intense wave of relief. Not only did the car's owner believe in being prepared in case of emergency — having a full first aid kit, heavy winter blankets, a collapsible shovel, flashlights, bottled water, and all the other items recommended for anyone who drove on Michigan's rural highways in the winter — they had also just been to the grocery store. Not for a full week's shopping, but happily not for things like disposable diapers or toilet paper, either. Most of the items in the three paper sacks were canned or boxed, with a few other basics like bread and milk, things that would spare Minion the need to go in search of sustenance for his ward on this awful night. Happy to have found this treasure that would help them stay in complete hiding for a week or more, if he was careful, the ichthyoid closed the trunk and went to take care of moving Mykaal before the novice villain more fully returned to consciousness.

Before moving him, Minion released the seatbelts and removed the blanket covering his ward to make sure the worst of his injuries didn't require extra attention, here where he could see and work more easily under the bright light of the car's overhead lamp. He steeled himself before lifting the cloth, well aware of all the hurts he'd hastily bound up when he'd first gotten his insensate ward into the stolen car. He'd changed the bloody bandages once during a stop to check his ward, dressings he'd made from strips of toweling and athletic tapes stolen from an unlocked sporting goods store that had been evacuated during the battle. He adjusted the splints he'd made from filched hockey sticks for the arms and legs that were very badly sprained, if not broken, checking to make sure that the taped-up ribs were only bruised or cracked, not broken and interfering with the young alien's breathing. He tightened the tape that held the damaged jaw in place and temporarily restrained the shoulder Minion suspected had been dislocated. His heart twisted as he made all his careful examinations, wishing that it was a month earlier, so he could go out and find some ice or snow to use to bring down the swelling all over the battered blue body.

Minion didn't believe that Mykaal was evil, he never had; he'd known him since they were both babies, and he was positive that all the young man's gifts would be much better used toward noble ends, not this pursuit of villainy. But after today, after seeing what this so-called Metro Man could do to him without even thinking about the damage he inflicted, he was completely behind his ward's desire to expose the superpowered brute for the bully he was. From their first meeting, the overmuscled brat had taken pleasure in hurting the blue-skinned boy, who had never done anything to earn it, and if he could help his friend find a way to make the physically invulnerable hero feel even a little of the pain he'd caused today, he would.

But for now, the determined little fish would help his friend to heal. Encouraged by the fact that the bleeding had largely stopped, he left the bandages in place, tightened two of the splints, then wrapped the blanket around the thin, battered frame, oh so carefully. As he was gently moving the arms of his newest robot body to lift him — this one the most sophisticated yet, completely tied into and controlled by his neural implant, and designed to move, if not precisely look, like a significantly oversized and hairless chimpanzee — Mykaal's vivid green eyes opened.

They were bleary and bloodshot and clearly full of pain, one lid deeply purpled and nearly swollen shut, but they somehow found and focused on the piscine's face. "Minion...?" he whispered, all he could manage between his dry and aching throat and the tape binding his injured jaw.

"Shh," the ichthyoid soothed, his own voice feeling raw. "It's okay, sir, we're safe. I got you away from that sorry excuse for a hero, someplace where no one will think to look for us. You're banged up pretty bad, but I think you're going to be all right."

"Hurts," the bruised blue lips murmured, pulling into a faint grimace.

"I know. That Scott monster didn't even notice what he was doing to you, but I'm pretty sure he didn't do any really serious damage, like crack your skull or your spine. Can you tell me how many fingers you see?" He held up one hand at a comfortable distance from his ward's face, three fingers raised.

Mykaal blinked several times as he peered at them. "Twelve," he finally breathed.

Aching though it was, there was a note of his characteristic cockiness in the young man's voice, a dead giveaway that he'd deliberately lied. Minion smiled. "You're going to be fine, if you can make jokes right now — even bad ones." The faint hint of a smile that crossed the smudged and bruised blue face told the fish that his assessment was accurate. "I'm going to move you into the place I found for us to hide out for a while, and then I'll give you some painkillers."

When the green eyes closed and the tiny smile became a small frown, he knew what Mykaal was thinking. "Revenge can wait, sir," he said in his best no-nonsense tones. "Right now, you need time to heal and get your strength back, in peace and quiet. I'll make sure you get it, I promise. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. And before you even think of giving that Scott bully a little deserved payback, we're going to work on ways to keep him from ever hurting you like this again. Okay?"

The frown faded, and a thin sigh escaped him. "Okay," he agreed. "Thanks, Minion. You're th'most f'ntastic fish ever."

Said fish's smile became crooked. "Let's see if you still feel that way _after _I've moved you."

To his credit, Mykaal only whimpered a little during the awkward transfer, even though Minion could feel him trembling by the time he settled the slender, battered body into the makeshift bed he'd prepared. It may not have been luxurious, but to the injured young villain, it was heaven after the long, uncomfortable, bumpy ride in an old car with worn shocks. Minion had set up a small emergency lantern from the supplies in the trunk to provide enough light to move about safely, but not enough to draw the attention of anyone outside. Once he got the painkillers into his grateful ward, Mykaal quickly sank back to sleep. He was still clearly in pain, but the feelings of safety his guardian had provided were enough to let him relax as much as he could.

Once he'd assured himself that the young genius hadn't passed out again but was simply asleep, Minion went to work, gently cleaning him and then doing a more thorough, if very careful, check of his injuries. He wished that he could take him to a hospital, but unless he wanted the youth locked up again — and potentially taken away by unscrupulous researchers who would use his condition as an excuse to get their hands on him — that wasn't an option, not unless he was genuinely and imminently in danger of dying. Minion couldn't protect him from Metro Man's assault, but he could take care of him now, and he would. If he needed to break into medical facilities and drug stores to get the supplies and equipment he needed to help nurse Mykaal back to health, so be it. It was his duty as his ward's _min'yaaun, _and his privilege as his friend.

When he was done, he was relieved to have discovered that though the teenager had suffered considerable damage, it was all of a sort he could treat. The bruises were considerable, and the bleeding from broken and torn skin bad, but treatable with the supplies he had on hand. Fortunately, the broken bones — one in his right forearm, another in his left leg, and a third in his right ankle — were simple fractures, not compound, complex, or shattered. The dislocated jaw and shoulder were able to be set to rights with only brief, if intense, pain, and though he had a lot of general trauma, there were no internal injuries that would require surgery to repair.

Minion was glad that his friend was so exhausted that he only half-roused from the pain of having the dislocations and breaks set, as he was also glad to have taken the time to study how these things were done, just for such an occasion. While he was checking the last of the splints against the instructions in the first aid handbook from the car's emergency kit, his ward's eyes fluttered open for a moment, bleary with pain and exhaustion, but somehow still aware of what had happened, and that for now, the worst was over.

"Thanksh, Min'n," he mumbled, the words slurred as he fought the need to sleep. His mouth moved, wanting to say more, but the strength was lacking.

His guardian's smile was fondly reassuring. "Think nothing of it, sir. That's what friends are for. Just go to sleep, now. You need the rest, and it'll make the time go faster." The young genius didn't need to agree; his body did for him as he quickly settled back into a marginally more comfortable sleep,

With Mykaal's injuries now attended, Minion tucked him in, then went to work covering the grimy windows that might present a problem if the lights and shadows of their movements within were seen by someone outside. It was good that the abandoned workshop wasn't on one of the main streets or even on a through street, but after their recent years of running from one hideout to another, Minion had learned that one could never be too cautious.

He didn't want to do anything too obvious, like literally boarding up the windows, but fortunately, there'd been a number of partial rolls of a heavy leather-like upholstery vinyl left behind. It wasn't what he'd thought would be most comfortable in constructing a bed for his injured friend, but it would serve very nicely to make quick but functional blackout shades for the two windows that had him concerned. From outside, the covering wouldn't even be noticed unless someone pressed their nose to the dirty windowpanes.

As he attached it to the window frames with an assortment of rusty old upholstery tacks he'd found, he did his best to be quiet so as not to disturb his ward's uneasy sleep. While he worked, Minion's thoughts wandered to the subject of finding ways to protect Mykaal from ever suffering hurts like this again. The traditional spandex and vinyl of costumed supers obviously wasn't good enough, tough and resilient though the young villain might be. He was sure his boss could come up with any of a number of far more effective means to protect himself once he was back to his old self and they had a proper hideout again, but until then, other things would have to serve. Ordinary clothes were too easily damaged, but maybe something heavy yet flexible, like this fake hide — or real leather...

Minion's eyes lit up at that thought. Oh, yes, that would certainly meet with Mykaal's approval. Leather clothing was practically the official garb of bad boys everywhere, and in the right colors, it would suit both his chosen Megamind persona and his need for a more durable battle costume.

Despite the gravity of their current circumstances, Minion smiled to himself, making a mental note to see if he could get that sewing machine working and scrounge up the proper kind of leathers while his ward was recuperating. The idea of a new and better outfit to replace the tatters of the one Scott had carelessly ruined would be sure to lift the young man's spirits while he was healing — and given the extent of his injuries, that was going to take a while, a month at the very least. It was a sedentary project that could be worked on to keep Mykaal's active mind occupied and his injured body still. It was also something of a positive nature that would be better for him to focus on rather than licking his wounds or plotting revenge.

Yes, he and his master may have been a couple of orphans, outcast on this world of strangers, but they were both fighters. And if there was one thing of which Minion was absolutely sure, it was that however events turned in the years ahead, they would never, ever go down without a fight.

_Fin_


End file.
